Bright Lights
by RachoeyFan
Summary: Based on the song by Matchbox 20. What happens when Rachel leaves her husband, and encounters upon 6 NYC strangers? VERY MUCH AU!


A/N: It's been a a while since I've written something. Anyway, I needed my inspiration back. This fan fiction is based on the song by the same title of the series. I think I should also give you a few heads ups before you start to read:  
  
This takes place in 2003:  
  
-Rachel and Ross NEVER happened  
  
-Rachel doesn't know Ross or Monica or any of the friends  
  
-Kip and Monica are DATING (this IS NOT a Monica and Chandler fic...but there might be some turns later on that'll be interesting...)  
  
-Rachel is married to Barry.  
  
I hope you get the rest of it as it goes on. Anyway, enjoy this first chapter of many to come. ~Yours Truly  
  
Read and Review ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -----  
  
Rachel couldn't sleep through the endless rain storm. The high wattage lightening filled the room. The thunder rocked the Long Island mansion that she had been residing in. All her remedies had suddenly become unusable. The counting of woolly sheep, the to do list forming in her head, and not even the thought of watching her favorite television show could force her to fall asleep. She didn't know what was going on.  
  
Rachel sat up on the messy, feminine floral printed bed. The flowers had taken on a different light in the dark. They were darker and created a sea of midnight silhouettes. The shadows that went along with the creases in the blanket were lined with blurriness, as Rachel stared at them and cried. Her button down flannel pajamas began to soak with her tears. She felt like that she has been crying inside for the past 9 years as a married Mrs.Farber. Constantly being a prize on the arms of a hideously looking man.  
  
She placed her feet, one by one, on the glazed, sienna hardwood floor. Her feet had become sweaty and began to stick. Lifting her feet were painful, as she slowly crept to the windowsill. She sat upon it, her left knee bent towards her chin, her right leg stretched out in front of her.  
  
Staring out the window had become the most exciting thing. She looked at the world below her. The malachite grass was being fed by the rain. Satisfaction was being brought to the grass, as it had been dead for quite a while. She admired how strong the grass was. Going so long without anything to rely on, and held out because it had to. She couldn't end up like the grass. The constant expectancy to be there and the comfort that it will always be there. She didn't want to be protected. All she wanted was to jump in the puddle, and feel the ripples splash against her feet.  
  
She stared at the rain droplets falling against the window pane. There was no real pattern forming with the vapor. The squiggly shapes danced and attached to each other, as gravity gave way. The dance they danced was one of less than illustrious of skill. They became scared when they couldn't stick with the vibrant beat, and would end up giving up on their performance. There was no way for them to become independent individuals. When one falls, the other falls along with it. Rachel felt her foundation giving way, minute by minute everyday.  
  
The moon glow was the most pleasing thing to her. It shined upon everyone. The moon held the light to everyones home and guided people to many places. The luminescence of the moon was something that moved Rachel to even more tears. The independence of the moon and the way it seemed to speak voiceless words to her was clear enough. She had to find a place where she could shine, grow, and not be dependent upon anyone.  
  
Rachel fell asleep on the windowsill, without the comfort of her high-priced foundation. The bed felt as if it was never worn in. She never plopped on top of the bed, she had to ease herself onto it. She would love to let her guard down and bounce from the bed springs. Her arms stretched out, as she felt herself fall onto a cloud. Turning over, she would smell the freshness of the pliant comforter. Grabbing hold of it, she'd rub her face upon it and see nothing around her but the color of frost.  
  
She stood up from her spot by the windowsill. The right side of her face had become frigid. She had been leaning against the window and dazing off, her eyes staring northeast. Any direction was better looking than to the west. Her husband, Barry, lay a few feet away, his back facing her. She could see the shiny bald spot that she had long stared at, through his endless conversations. His hair line was receding, but the bald spot toward the top of his head, always caught her attention. Someone intended it to stay there. Not even hair replacement could make the vacant area look attractive. The bald spot was an island that was no where near tropical. The spot on his head had an uneven shape, as one part of it was occupied with hair, and then proceeds to be void. The bald area was established and would never ever change. She now knew why Barry would never get the girls based on looks, it was all about the money.  
  
She stared straight ahead at the bathroom door. She stood up from her position by the windowsill and walked slowly to the bathroom. The floor creaked slightly. Rachel paused as to see if the result would be a rustle from her husband from his current form. There was no movement. She continued her short journey to the bathroom.  
  
Grabbing hold of the sparkling saffron doorknob, she rotated it to the right and stepped inside. She held the doorknob from the inside of the bathroom and shut the door with two hands, one on the door and the other on the doorknob. The nightlight that was attached to the outlet permeated the salmon colored cell. The nightlight was a tiny object with massive power. It was a modern day candle, for everything can always use improvement.  
  
Rachel leaned against the circular edged counter, her hands pushing hard against the smooth ceramic surface. Rachel stood with her head hanging low, her legs in a runners starting position. She sealed her eyes shut and imagined herself finishing off a race. Not a race of physical endurance, but one of emotional freedom. She ran without losing breath, and anytime she felt herself getting weak, she'd remembered what all the pain was for. That the aches and discomforts will result in a reward that she could appreciate for herself.  
  
Rachel lifted her head slowly, for she couldn't deal with the scarlet tightness that singed in the back of her neck. She stared straight ahead at the mammoth mirror. The mirror never tells lies, for it was taught to tell the truth. For once though, Rachel wishes that the mirror would lie straight to her face and tell her that her life was of a rosy hue. That her collection of valuable statues were of importance to her. That the castle she resides in is much too small to her. That anything she says is wrong, and nothing is wrong with staying where she is.  
  
Time went by, and the clock read 6:30 am. The buzzing of the alarm clock woke Rachel from her unpleasant position for sleeping that she resumed after her journey to the bathroom. Rachel knew that her husband would wake soon. His bald spot would be face to face with his plaid cushion soon. His arms would stretch far enough and his fingers would flex.  
  
Rachel listened to the consistent buzzing with pleasure. It was a dazzling wake up call. Others that she knew would have pushed the button to end the nightmare of the hum. Not she, she was enjoying the incessant drone.  
  
Rachel walked towards her and Barry's massive walk in closet. She took out all her cashmere sweaters, overpriced denim jeans, her walking shoes, and her undergarments. She reached high up above the closet for her Louis Vuitton suitcase. Her limbs feeling something new. She had to work hard to reach for the suitcase, and in the end it was worth it.  
  
She stuffed her bag with all the necessary items she would need to live on for a few days. She wanted to leave her surreal life fast. Not looking back or facing up to her family and so called "friends."  
  
She quickly changed into a cream colored sweater, narrowed legged denim jeans, and white tennis shoes. She grabbed her suitcase with much excitement. She reached for the door that leads to the hallway. She looked at Barry one last time.  
  
"Go away." Barry said, in his sleep.  
  
And Rachel gladly did.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------- A/N:I know its not much yet, but I wanted to get people in the mood and to feel what Rachel feels. Read and Review as always. I appreciate it. 


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